I Trust You
by Tamashi.no.Koe
Summary: Fuji chuckles. "Don't worry, Sora. I'll protect you." I look at him and sneer. "I wouldn't trust you to protect me from big, bad, rampaging marshmallows." Fuji Syusuke X OC. Sequel to: I HATE YOU. Can be read as a standalone, though. Rated for swearing.


**A****uthor's Note**: I don't know anyone remotely like Sora, so believe me when I say I'm apprehensive as to whether I got the tone right and stuff. That is, I'm unsure as to whether I did the 'street girl' talk right. So...since I'm what Sora would call a 'preppy wimp' (poor Yuuta), you're going to have to tell me whether this sounds as pretentious as I suspect it does. Anyway, happy reading.

* * *

** I TRUST YOU**

* * *

It's probably wrong. Heck, I _know_ it's wrong. But I do it anyway, because, well, I'm hungry.

The packet of crackers is right there on the shelf in front of me. Right there, where I can reach out and take it. I look out of the corner of my eye at the only other person in the small convenience store I'm about to steal from. He's this boy-next-door kind of guy. Brown hair, brown eyes, nothing special. I can tell from his clothes and the flashy sports magazine he's reading behind the counter that he probably doesn't really need this job. I sneer. Rich brat. He's most likely only here because his doctor and accountant parents want him to get a taste of the _real world_. I sneer some more. Wherever his parents think the _real world_ is, this squeaky clean store isn't there.

If you want to see life, _real_ life, you go out onto the streets. One week is enough for anyone. I dare you.

I reach out, and my fingers close in on the food packet. The wrapper crinkles a little. I look back at the guy. To my ears, I'm setting off bombs just by touching the goods, but he doesn't hear a thing. His nose is still buried in that magazine. Something about tennis. I press down a bit harder, lifting the packet up. He turns the page. Rolling my eyes, I finally just take the crackers and hold it in my hand, trying to look like some dumb thirteen year old deciding whether the calorie count of this stuff is low enough for my diet. Truth is, I'm sixteen. Truth is, I don't get why anyone would pass up the chance to eat, if they had one.

I can already taste food in my mouth, feel the dryness of it scorching my tongue, then clumping up while I force it down my throat. Still holding on to my lunch, I turn away from the shelf and head towards the one exit. To get out of the store, I have to pass by the counter, but I'm not too worried. Whatever mommy and daddy had in mind when they sent their kid out into the _real world_, it's not doing him a whole lot of good. For a moment, there's nothing but a counter between us and I have something I've stolen from his boss pressed up against my leg where he can't see. I'm real close to him now. Close enough to see the small cross-shaped scar he has on his forehead. For half a second or so, I think, maybe he isn't as much a wimp as he looks. Then I think, to hell with that. He probably got the scar from bumping into his fine-oak kitchen table in his two story house while chasing a brand new remote-control car his uncle got him just because. I walk past him. He doesn't even look up.

Six feet to the door. My pulse is racing but I keep walking. My stomach is killing me and I figure that if Tennis Boy's numbers don't add up when it's time for him when someone clears out the register, well, at least he won't starve for it.

Four feet to the door. Don't get me wrong. I'm not used to this. I know that compared to what my family and me have done before, I'm not used to stealing. Shoplifting. Whatever the fancy folks call it these days.

Two feet to the door. He turns the page again. Or maybe he's putting the magazine down. My jaw clenches but when I glance down, I see that most of the crackers are covered by my hand, anyway. So I keep going.

One foot to the door. I'm smiling.

"Hey!" An angry yell rings out behind me.

There's a spike of adrenaline and then I'm running. I bite back a curse at myself for hesitating, just that one second. But can you blame me for freaking out? _I'm breaking the law._ The law. Something bigger and stronger than I can ever be. I can run, run for miles and miles until my legs give way, and maybe they'll still catch me. After all, it's the _law_ I'm up against. The thing that everyone else thinks is right, no matter what. Even if you're hungry. Even if your eyes are getting unfocused and you can't really think straight and—

Something grabs my arm. I wrench it forwards but that something doesn't let go. Two things come to mind.

Damn, he's fast. He was behind the counter the last I saw of him, and the only way he could've gotten out so fast was by jumping over it. Pretty kickass, for a preppy.

Oh _shit_.

I was scared. My heart did this painful thumping thing against my ribcage. But I was also fed up and not in the mood to have some kid slapping his no-stealing principles on me. So instead of pulling, I stood still and once he was close enough I raised my elbow and jabbed—

I was running again even before hearing the small yelp that meant I had connected with someplace sensitive. Again I was a foot from the door and a few seconds from being home free when—

With a snarl (by then I was royally pissed off; what did a girl have to do to eat her stolen crackers in peace, _dammit_?) I skid on the waxed white floor tiles to keep from crashing into someone who is just coming in through the same doorway which I _need_ to get through but have failed to do that _twice_. The really dumb thing was, instead of pushing the door-blocking idiot out of the way like any other normal thief, I have to jump backwards out of his way. While on the run from the law. _Stupid_ rookie mistake.

But as I said, I'm no professional.

The good news is, I come to my senses soon enough and go for the next best thing—running for the door. Again. For the third time. _Now_ I start pushing people out of the way.

The bad news? I'm too late. I almost scream out loud when a hand grabs my wrist and yanks me back inside. A rough voice blasts in my ear. "Don't think you're going to get away with—"

"Yuuta! What's going—"

_All this for a few lousy crackers?_ I'm scared and I'm fed up and most of all, I'm _hungry_. To hell with running, at least for now. Twisting around, I ram my free fist into Tennis Boy's gut. "Oof!" He doubles over, grimacing.

I don't stay to watch. Turning around at top speed I'm ready to run—

When I'm slammed against the wall, I really do scream. At least it's not a little girl's scream. It's all rage and pain (my head is pounding from where it hit concrete) because I'm just sick of things not going the way they should and above all I'm still so _hungry_.

Then I'm gasping. I'm tired. My hands are limp where they're pressed up against the wall and my fingers are tingling because whoever's holding me still is holding so hard, it's cutting off circulation. I try to fight but I can hardly move. It's getting quieter now, and there are voices.

"Fuji, let her go."

"I don't think that's a good idea. She just attacked Yuuta."

"Let her go, or_ I'll_ be the one attacking _you_."

I know that voice. I know that tone. My heart stops pounding so much. But no one's letting me go.

"Dammit, Fuji. Nee-san's not going to run out on us."

"She just tried to."

Technically that is true. But it doesn't mean I have to like being all pinned down and exposed. Trying not to breath so loudly (I sound like I'm dying and I kind of feel like it too) I look my captor in the face. He's go longish brown hair almost the same shade as Tennis Boy's, who is apparently called Yuuta. "Get your arms off me or you end up like _him_." I jerk my head in the direction of this Yuuta.

"Shut it, Nee-san. You screwed up bad enough already," the voice I know tells me.

Fuji, the one who's making my fingers turn white and blue, doesn't get angry. He doesn't let me go, either. Instead, he stares at me like he's not mashing my wrists against a concrete wall and I haven't just said I'll kick his butt. I suppose he thinks it would intimidate me or something. He has those kinds of blue eyes which some people—don't ask me why—think pierces right through them, into their souls. Or something.

Doesn't work on me, though.

My eyes are just like his.

"Your hands are tied," Fuji states simply.

I've always tried not to use that expression. People tend not to know when I mean figuratively, or when I mean literally. Like, with rope. "Yes, they are," I agree, just to mess him up for a second or so. Then, I do the sensible thing—I rear back and kick. It isn't a very hard kick (starved, remember?) but it takes him by surprise and sends him backing into the counter besides Yuuta. For the moment he's out of my hair, but someone else steps in and plants herself in front of me.

"Cut it _out_ already, Nee-san," Sanna growls. She's one year younger than me, but my sister's almost my height. Almost. I still have an inch on her and I use it so that she has to tilt her chin up in order to go on glaring at me.

"Be quiet," I snap back. "You would've done worse."

Picking up the packet of crackers I'd dropped on the floor, she waves it under my nose. "Not this. I've never done this before, and never will."

I push her away roughly and sneer. "_This_? You say _this_ like it's a crime." It kind of was. "I haven't eaten for two days, all right? So sue me for trying to keep myself alive."

Sanna blinks, and the angry look is gone. She looks like me. Blonde, on the thin side. Her eyes are blue to, but when I look into them, I can see that this isn't the baby sister who used to pick random fights for no good reason. "Two days?" she says after me.

"Yes, _two days_. Wrap your preppy mind around that? Jeez, did St. Rudolph make you go soft or something?" I'm just venting. I know she loves her school. Jerking a thumb at Yuuta and Fuji, I say, "Tell those two that if they're going to call the cops, then hurry the hell up."

Sanna rolls her eyes in a way that says, _that isn't the point_. She turns brusquely to Yuuta. "No one's turning you in._ Right_, Yuuta?" She glares.

"…Right," Yuuta agrees, so quickly that it surprises me. My sister glares good enough, but it takes a real wussy to freak out _that_ much over just one look.

"See? No police." She brushes the whole 'stealing' thing over impatiently. "What the hell were you saying about not eating for two days?" Her eyes narrow. "Where's mom?"

"Where do you _think_ she is?"

Sanna explodes. "Then _go_ to the bar and get her to give you some cash!"

I laugh. She might think she's all big and bad, but Sanna, she's still my naive baby sister. "Cash? What cash?"

She freezes. Then she growls low in her throat and throws up her arms. "That's it." She rounds on Yuuta, who tenses up. "I'm pulling myself out of St. Rudolph."

And for the first time that day, I panic, really panic. I can't think of what to say and anyway, there probably aren't any words strong enough for how I feel, even for those nerds who swallow dictionaries. I charge up to Sanna—she has her back to me—and just hit her. I strike her so hard, she stumbles and falls.

"Nee-san, _what the hell_?"

"You're staying in St. Rudolph," I inform her testily. "For once you're not flunking out and I'm making you _stay_ in that damned school if it's the last thing I do." I glower at her. I glower much better than she can.

Sanna holds her cheek and screams up at me from the floor. "You're starving! Mom is too, isn't she? She's taking _crack_, in case you forgot, and enough booze to kill her! Don't think I don't know. And if—if—" She's crying now, and I'm staring at her, shocked. I haven't seen her cry in years. "If pulling out of St. Rudolph is going to save enough money to keep you both fed and pay the bills—and _don't_ even try to argue, they already cut off electricity, right?—then I, I really d-don't m-mind…"

I watch her sob. She's smart, my sister. Perceptive. Or maybe she just knows me too well. I decide that I'm not letting her leave her school, even if she's right and my house doesn't have hot water or gas anymore. If anyone in the family has a chance, she does. "I don't give a damn. Gov aid is enough to cover St. Rudolph and the rent. Everything else, I'll find a way to get by on. And by some other way than _this_, all right?" I gesture at the crackers. "Happy? You just do whatever you have to do at school and—_what are you doing to her_?"

This last question is for Yuuta, who is taking my sister, my baby sister, in his arms and helping her up, stroking her hair awkwardly with this worried frown he has _no business_ wearing. His eyes shoot up to me and it's so embarrassingly obvious that he's nervous (my glare, as I said, is much better than Sanna's) but he has guts enough to hold her closer to himself and say, "Helping her up, of course," like he's got every right.

I open my mouth, but Sanna waves at me to be quiet. "Stop scaring him, Nee-san," she grumbles. "He's on our side."

"He's _touching_ you," I point out archly. _My_ baby sister.

"Yeah…well…" She looks away and fidgets.

"Well?"

"He's…sort of my boyfriend." She looks at me like she expects me to blow up in her face.

Outside, I try to look like I disapprove, but only because that's what big sisters are supposed to do. Inside, I'm thinking, better this preppy wimp than some of the guys _I _know. At least he'll take care of her, for real. Or try to, anyway. It's funny, actually, the way the two of them stare up at me in each other's arms like Judgment Day has come early. I really don't feel like blowing up. But I do think that making some kind of threat is part of my job. As her sister, and all. "Knock her up and I'll kill you."

They both flush red.

With a silent sigh I lean back against the wall. I know (even if they don't) that it's an empty threat. I probably won't be able to kill them even if they go at it in front of me—I'm just so _hungry_.

"Ne."

I feel a light hand on my shoulder and I look up to see Fuji. Smiling. "What?" I snap.

His smile doesn't leave. "I'm Yuuta's older brother."

I think about this. Then I nod. I accept that he can't forgive me all at once because I know how I would feel if someone attacked Sanna (although that someone probably won't leave the scene alive—or at least not very much alive). But I also accept that (I am not as smart as Sanna; at least, I've skipped school _lots_ more than her, but I've also survived the streets and am not stupid, or imperceptive) he knows I care for her the way he cares for his brother. I accept—and I am glad—that he respects that.

"Saa," Fuji says, not unkindly, "…Isugi-san…"

"Sora," I supply warily. "Isugi Sora."

"Sora." He nods. "It's lunchtime, and…would you like to go out for a bite to eat? My treat?"

I look at him. I think about his offer and what it might mean. Then I think, to hell with that. I'm _hungry_. "Yes."

* * *

The restaurant we go to is one of the fanciest I've been to in my life. It sells fast food. Or something. I'm not too sure. But it's food, and I don't object.

"Maa, this should be fine, ne?" Fuji sets the tray down on a table for two in one of the quieter corners. He invites me to sit. I do, awkwardly. He settles himself opposite me and waves a hand at the burger and fries between us. "Lunch time."

My hands are in my lap. My fingers are twisted up in a tangled ball of pale flesh and bone. I'm hungry. I really am. I want that food very, very badly. But then…everything's so strange, you know? Fuji is just sitting there, smiling (when I come to think of it, I don't remember him _stop_ smiling, and it's kind of freaky), waiting for me to start eating. And he hasn't said what he wants from me yet. So, even if I feel like there's this black hole growing in my stomach, I just sit there too. He looks a little puzzled. "Sora? I thought you said you're hungry? What's wrong?"

I'm not sure how to say this. And he's not helping. Words aren't my thing—they don't help you run, or fight. "There's some stuff I don't do," I tell him in a low voice. "Even if I'm hungry."

He chuckles, still a bit confusedly. "I hope eating isn't part of that 'stuff'."

I stare at him, waiting. He still hasn't said what he wants.

Fuji looks down at the burger and fries, and his smile turns thoughtful. "Are you a vegetarian?"

I stare at him some more, and frown. I'm not sure where I stand, see. I wish he would just tell me. Maybe he wants me to swear I'll never give Yuuta trouble again. Maybe he wants me to get Sanna to break up with Yuuta—maybe he doesn't want his brother going out with the sister of someone like me. Maybe he wants something from me, for himself. While he doesn't say it, I'm not saying no. But I'm not saying yes either. Even I feel like I'm going to pass out soon.

He's still looking at a burger like he's never seen one before. "Do you want something else, then? I'm not sure whether there are any vegetarian restaurants nearby, but—"

"Just tell me," I cut in. I'm fine when people yell and throw things, but people acting stupid pisses me off. "What do I have to do?"

He's already half out of his seat when he freezes for a second, then slowly sits back down. The smile is patient now, so understanding it's almost annoying. Almost. "I'd say there are a lot of things you have to do, but—Sora?" I'm out of my seat and preparing to leave. "Sora, please listen to me." Sighing (he has food, after all), I stop. "There are many things you should do, but I'm not going to force you into it. Right now, I just want you to eat. We'll talk when you can walk in a straight line."

I scowl. I'm hungry, but…I'm not _that_ bad, am I? Sure I can walk in a damned straight line. And he still hasn't said it. I don't know what he wants or what I'll have to do. He says he won't make me do anything. I look back at him, telling myself to be careful. He looks kind of like his brother. I mean, ok, they look different, but they _look_ the same, too. Same preppy, goody-two-shoes eyes. And I figure, well, if he's planning something, it's go to be something I can handle, or get out of. So I sit back down, and this time, I eat before he tells me to.

The bites I take out of the burger are huge, chunks of bread and meat that I barely chew before forcing down my throat. I feel like I'm choking but I can't _stop_. Some people at the next table are staring at me. They're whispering behind their hands and giggling like idiots. I give them my best glare and they look away fast. I look back at Fuji. He's still smiling, and it doesn't seem like he's disgusted that my table manners are crappy. I still don't know what he wants me to do. I still have no idea what he's going on. I wish Sanna was around to rough him up, do _something_ to make him _talk _while I'm busy eating. She's back at the store with Yuuta—his shift isn't over yet and she wants to have lunch with him.

The burger is gone, and before I'm finished swallowing I start on the fries. I'm eating slower now (not because I had a choice; fries are just that hard to eat fast). Fuji is still staring at me and smiling like he's…happy. Like he's done something good and is pleased about it. He still hasn't told me. I'm getting worried now, because I've already accepted his food and there's no going back. Most of the fries are gone, too, and I don't get one word out of him.

Suddenly, he gets up again. I go stiff. Here it comes. But he points at a door at the back of the restaurant, and says, "Excuse me for a minute? I need to use the men's room."

I nod slowly. My eyes are narrowed as they follow him all the way to the door until he's out of sight even while I'm still sipping soda. Then I look back at the table, and scowl again because I have _no_ _idea_ what going on, what he's trying to do here.

He's left his wallet.

Rich brat. _Stupid_ rich brat. Obviously he hasn't spent ten minutes on the streets, really on the streets, doing deals and stuff. I reach out and pick up the sleek brown wallet with its leather cover. I flip it open and my eyes go wide. Then I close the thing real quick, and throw it away so hard it falls off the table and hits the ground, opening up again. And I can see all the yen stacked up inside it. Sighing harshly, I pick it up.

It's probably wrong. Heck, I _know_ it's wrong, but…_damn_. He's making it so _easy_. If I'd left my cash lying around somewhere in my neighborhood, it would be gone in two seconds flat and Sanna would shrug, roll her eyes and say, "Your bad." But this guy, this Fuji is just leaving it there like—like he expects I won't take it or something. Maybe he hasn't though that I'd take it. When I think of home and what he knows about my home, that's crazy. _Crazy_. But he's left it there. And he's going to be back soon.

I have rent to think about. And making sure mom gets enough to eat. And take care of Sanna's school fees. And—

Oh _shit_.

* * *

It's already evening when I get back home, and I'm walking pretty quickly because even I'm not dumb or naive enough to stay outside when it gets dark. And look, I'm not saying that the big bad _dark_ is really that scary or that the vampires come out after sundown. But can you see if someone is in the shadows, getting ready to jump you, when there's no light? And when that person does jump you, can you see where his knife is so you don't get cut when you fight back?

Yeah. There you go.

So I'm turning the last corner and pulling out the keys, a plastic bag hanging from one arm. There was just enough cash left over for me to get a few cans and stuff, so I figure mom and I (if she comes home, that is) will have dinner tonight. I'm almost at my doorstep and those damn keys are so deep in my pocket that I can't get—

"Sora."

I stop looking for the keys. Sighing and closing my eyes for a second, I straighten up and stare. I'm tired, and really not in the mood for messing around. I don't care that he got me lunch; I'm still tired and sick of everything being so _hard_.

His smile is gone now. His eyes are like rocks and chances are, he's not going to be nice. He frowns, looking down at the bag I'm holding. "I thought I had more money in there than that." He can probably see that there aren't that many cans.

I shrug. "You did. But most of it went to rent and the electricity bill. Water bill. Whatever. Stuff like that."

He frowns even more. "I thought you told Sanna your rent was covered."

I shrug again. "I lied."

We're both quiet now, and I'm thinking hard. Of course he's going to want his money back, and of course I don't have any to give him just yet. There are ways to get cash. I don't like it, but I can't help it either. I just hope he doesn't tell Sanna. Or Yuuta.

I hear Fuji sigh too, and it doesn't sound like he's angry. "Sora?"

"Yeah?" I mumble. There's this weird feeling I'm getting. It's hollow and cold…reminds me of regret.

"Are you going to be all right?"

I stare at him. I don't move and I don't say anything. Because whatever I expected to hear, it wasn't something so…gentle? Like I didn't just put a big dent in his wallet.

Speaking of the wallet, he pulls it out of his pocket now, and opens it. He takes out the only slip of paper in a big, empty pouch. The paper has two words on it, in my hand writing.

_**I'm sorry**_.

He puts it away again. "That can only last you for a day or two," he says, nodding at the bag. "Are you going to be all right, afterwards?"

I look away. I feel like scowling, but not really. The weird feeling is getting stronger. "Look, I'll pay you back, ok? You're going to have to wait awhile, but I'll do it."

"Sora." He tries to come closer, and by default I back away. Like I said, there's some stuff I don't do, even if it means he'll write off what I owe him. He gets the message, and stops. "How? I remember you said there are some things you won't do, but what is it that you _will_ do?" He's not yelling. He's talking softly, and sounds like he's being…kind. Like he cares.

I sneer. So this is how he finds out what he can get from me. "Jobs," I tell him shortly. "If you want some stuff delivered…whatever it is, I'll do it. If you want someone to look out for cops while you do whatever, I'll do it. If you need to rough somebody up some…" I shrug. I wonder what he'll choose. He doesn't look like he wants crack or like he's going to break into anyone's million dollar apartment while the rich folks are out clubbing. Though if he wants to land any good hits, he probably does need some help.

"Sora, you'd probably be doing something illegal."

Oh, _that's_ news. I laugh, because it really is that funny. Sort of. Like, he's telling me about the_ law_, that _thing_ hanging up there which everyone says we should listen to, but now way in hell does it ever listen back. If it did, maybe it might figure out that _we don't fight it for fun_. I don't take crackers without paying for fun. I don't empty wallets of reasonably nice guys for fun. And I sure as hell don't beat people up for fun. Sanna used to, but she stopped after a while in St. Rudolph. "Then _you _tell me how I'm supposed to get cash. There're some of _those_ girls a few blocks down, but like _hell _am I—"

"You got some money today," Fuji says quietly. "And you're not in trouble for it."

"_I stole it from you_," I almost yell at him. Whatever game he's playing, whatever mind trap this is, I'm in the middle of it and haven't _a single clue_ what's going on. I'm getting seriously pissed off, because from what I've learned, if you don't know what's happening to you, then you're in very deep shit. Besides, you don't rough it out just so some preppy can play you in the palm of his hand.

But then the preppy _chuckles_. I just don't know what to do anymore. "Let's say…you took it a little early, ne?

"If you want me to understand that, you're going to have to tell me what you mean," I snarl.

The smile is back, and it's that understanding one again. Like he knows what I'm thinking and doesn't really mind. "I want to help you, Sora. You and your family. I realize giving you money isn't exactly the best way to do it, but…"

I drop the bag, but don't notice until I hear the clang of cans when they hit the pavement. "You—you _let_ me take it? You _wanted_ me to?" Crazy. It was just crazy. The guy was incredible, but when I thought about it like that, everything started to make sense, in a freaky kind of way. It sure explained why he was waited at my house, and only him. No cops. No Sanna or Yuuta. I remember that he said, 'you're not in trouble for it'.

"Maa…" He runs a hand through his hair. "Maybe not quite in the way you did it, but I wanted to help you. And I wasn't sure how, so…my best ideas aren't really that good, ne?" He laughs sheepishly. "But you know, Sora, you could have just asked."

There's silence. I don't know what to say. The weird feeling is so strong, it's starting to hurt. For real. I want to scream, or cry, or kick myself, or (and I have no idea where this came from) run up to him and give him a_ hug_. I'm also…scared, because while he forgives me, he's disappointed too. That I didn't ask. And he expected me to. He expected me to so much that he left his wallet with me and let me do whatever I wanted. He…_trusted_ me. But after everything this afternoon, I don't think he does anymore. And that scares me because, well, I think it's going to be hard to get him to trust me again.

"Ne, Sora?"

"Yeah?"

"I really don't know what I can do for you in the long run, but for now," he reaches into the shadows on my front steps and pulls out another plastic bag. "I got you some dinner."

Let me tell you something. I've been threatened by half a dozen guys swinging knives around me, I've had my mother drunk and screaming and saying that she'll throw me out, and I've had my sister come home bleeding and cursing but won't tell me what's up. But I've never had someone I've stolen from turn around and say, "I got you some dinner."

It's too much. My nose starts stinging and everything around me starts swimming. I reach for my keys, take the bag and turn towards the door. Then I stop. I bite down hard on my lower lip. And I say, real soft, "Want to come in?"

When I look up, he's smiling.

* * *

A couple weeks later I find myself behind a counter, _working_. It isn't really hard work and I don't have to actually do a whole lot, but I'm getting paid and I guess that's what matters.

"Ok, this plus government aid should cover almost everything. But I'll look around and see if there are some more of these jobs, all right, Nee-san?" Sanna sounds worried. Or guilty.

"Don't let it eat into your study time," I warn her. I don't really want her to have to start working—God knows she's seen enough of the _real world_ to last her—but then I can't say no either, because we really do need cash.

"Don't worry," Yuuta grunts while he moves a box of bottled water to one side and starts putting them on a shelf. "She freaks out if she gets less than an A on anything nowadays. Hey Sanna, you're getting too used to being a nerd." He calls out the last one to his girlfriend.

She hits him on the head. I grin. I will never admit it, but Yuuta's job (or at least it used to be his) is kind of fun. Especially since Sanna comes to talk when she can and brings Yuuta along with her. He usually ends up doing the sweatiest part of my job for me. And I get paid for just sitting there and punching the register when someone wants to buy something. "That, coming from a preppy wimp? _Ouch_, Sanna," I tease.

My sister giggles. Yuuta yelps. "Preppy wimp?" he demands much too loudly. "What did I ever do to you? Sanna, your Nee-san's being mean."

Sanna giggles more. "Aw, Nee-san! You hurt Yuu-chan's feelings!" I have to shake my head at how _girly_ she is now. A couple of months ago she would've cracked his head open just for _looking_ at her. Let's not get into_ talking_. "But Yuuta, you really can't blame Nee-san for thinking about you that way, you know? She's…" Her face scrunches up. She struggles for words.

Coolly propping my head up on an elbow, I raise a brow and wait to see what she would say. I remember lots of ways social workers and people like that call people like me. 'Disadvantaged' is one. 'Unpolished' is another. 'Uneducated' is probably already the rudest and the closest to being politically incorrect.

But Sanna doesn't use any of those words. "She's…like me," she says at last.

I blink. Yuuta nods like he knows what she's talking about. "Oh, ok. Street fighter, yeah?"

I roll my eyes. "_Dumb_ preppy wimp," I say.

"That's a part of it," Sanna says with a shrug. "But then your vocabulary is stunted so it's not like you can put it in more concise terms." This is what school has done to my baby sister. She now uses words I don't know. She tries to teach me, but, _seriously_. "Anyway, you get my drift. To us, people like you are—"

"Preppy wimps?" Yuuta says resignedly. "Dumb preppy wimps?"

"Something like that," I say. Then I decide to throw in a few new words Sanna said the other day. "Over-privileged, self-absorbed, over-dependent rich sissy." Only 'rich' and 'sissy' aren't new.

Surprisingly, he doesn't react to the ones with five syllables. "Sissy?" he demands. "_Sissy?_"

"Yes," I say. Better tell him now before he finds out the hard way.

Yuuta looks really pissed. Sanna's somewhere laughing. He stomps over to the counter. I don't move a muscle. "What? Am I wrong?" I ask. "By the look of you, you've got a dad who brings in enough cash for you to go to this classy boarding school, a mom who makes you come home at the weekends so you'll get to eat her cooking and your favorite foods, and all you have to worry about is not getting busted when you sleep in class and playing tennis good enough to win a few games and impress some people."

Yuuta frowns.

"Well? Am I right?"

"…Yeah, but—but—"

"There you go," I say off, grinning, "And if you're still thinking about hitting me, there's something you should know. Last time we tried, I could still win Sanna in a fight."

That stops him cold.

"Oh." He goes back to the bottled water. Sanna laughs harder.

"Sora? Ready for a break?" All three of us look up when Fuji comes in through the door. He's carrying a couple of bags.

"Right on time, Aniki. I'm starving." Yuuta brushes his hands off and returns to the counter.

"Good thing I brought extras," Fuji says cheerfully, taking out the first cup noodle. He fills it with hot water from the store's boiler. He hands it to me.

Sanna and Yuuta don't complain. They're too busy staring at him. They have this kind of shocked look on their faces. Then Sanna slips her arm around Yuuta's waist and lays her head on his shoulder. "One day we might all be one happy family," she says wickedly. "Double wedding, ne?"

I'm stirring my noodles. Looking up, I point my fork at her. "He gets me food. I marry him. _Great_ logic, Sanna. I see St. Rudolph's _so_ much more than it's cracked up to be."

"He also found you a job," she points out. "He made _Yuuta_ give you _his_ job."

I brush it off. "A weekend shift. And he had to—" I glare at Fuji "—because he wouldn't let me take any of the full-time ones. And he hasn't said _why_." Glare, glare.

"Oh, that?" Fuji hands the next two cups to Yuuta and Sanna. "You have to be free on weekdays."

"Why?"

"Because you're going to school."

Even when, apparently, I dropped out a million years ago.

I pause.

"No way in hell."

* * *

He finds a way.

And it isn't in hell, either.

Because I try and try, but just can't get myself to hate Seigaku.

* * *

"You're insane, you know that?" I hiss. "Do you have _any_ idea what you're doing?"

"Going on a walk with you?" he supplies, smiling happily. He's just like a kid, really.

"_Here?_" I wave my arms around, gesturing at the neighborhood. _My_ neighborhood. Where your wallet disappears in two seconds flat if you don't keep an eye on it. Where people jump you at night. Where you see guns and stuff taken out randomly. He knows all this, and he still shows up at my doorstep.

"You do it," he says reasonably. Or so he thinks.

"They _know_ me around here," I say, exasperated. "They know they won't get shit off me in cash. You, on the other hand—" A few guys come onto the street in front of us. They're far away, but you can still see the tell-tale signs (I think they're called 'stereotypical attributes')—they're wearing black and blue and everything's either too baggy or too tight. It's all old and frayed. They have something in their hands. Beer bottles, most likely. I stiffen up and slowly place myself between them and Fuji.

Behind me, he chuckles. "Don't worry, Sora. I'll protect you."

I watch until the gang disappears into the next alley. Then I look back at him and sneer. "I wouldn't trust you to protect me from a big, bad, rampaging marshmallow." Harsh, true. But it's also true that my arms have more muscle than his.

"Maa, Sora," he says soothingly, slipping his hand into mine as we walk on. "I'll let you deal with the scary marshmallows then. But if it's anything worse than that," he whispers in my ear, "_I'm_ standing in front of _you_."

"I suppose you're trying to be romantic. Or something. Is there something you want me to do that you don't want to say out loud?"

He smiles. It's a predatory smile and believe it or not, even after all I've seen (a hell lot more than he has), I still shiver. "Is it working?"

I lie. "No."

"Ah, too bad."

We continue walking. He squeezes my fingers.

I snort, but squeeze his too.

* * *

This time it's night, and we're not in my neighborhood. I'm in his, and alone. I'm running, or trying to. There's a long gash up my leg which I can hide with my pants, but that doesn't keep it from hurting. There's sweat on every bit of me and hair is all tangled, matted with dirt. And a little red, sticky stuff.

I'm panting, gasping really hard, but I don't stop. Not until I see the familiar low garden wall and wrought iron gates which I shove open without slowing down. Straining to see in the dark I look over my shoulder one last time, and then ring the doorbell, leaning against the wall of the house for support.

Tonight, I'm lucky. _He_ opens the door. He takes one look at me and has grabbed me (lightly, thank God), ignoring all the sweat and dirt and red, sticky stuff that's on my clothes and making my skin feel disgusting. "Sora? What happened? Are you all rig—"

"I turned down a job," I say over him.

There is a pause. "A job?" he says warily.

"Yeah. When they told me to take the crack, I wouldn't."

He relaxes and pulls me close so that I'm pressed up against his chest. "That's great, Sora."

But I wasn't finished. "They got a little pissed. They don't want me to back out. I know a bit about them, you know. Who they are…where they keep their stuff…"

He tenses up again. Holding me at arm's length, he inspects me and my filthy state for the first time. "Is that why…?"

I grin. I'm feeling brash, though not very brave. "Nothing I couldn't get out of. Just had to slug a few people."

He's alarmed now. "Are you hurt badly?"

I tap my leg. "Some guy had a butter knife. Got me in the leg." He inhales sharply. "It's nothing serious, though." I don't tell him that the 'butter knife' is six inches long at the blade.

"You've got no medical supplies at home?"

"Sure I do. I just can't go get them."

He looks at me questioningly.

"I told you, they're not too happy about me backing out. They're trying to find me. Like, now."

"Then come in before they do!" Giving me a gentle tug, he tries to lead me into his house.

I dig my heels in. Craning my neck, I look his house up and down. It's a regular two-story building. Lots of windows. Almost transparent shades. There are climbable trees all around the walls. No defenses at all. If they found out I was inside, there would be no place to run. And all I would have between them and me, apparently, would be _Fuji_. Fuji, who probably doesn't know how to throw a punch.

I scowl. "You wouldn't happen to have a gun around, would you?"

Smiling apologetically, he shakes his head. "Don't worry. You won't need one." And he says this like he believes it. Like he thinks he can really keep me safe. I don't know about that one. There's an off chance that they might remember seeing me with him. They might not exactly break down the door, but if they find out about Fuji, and they know where he is, and when he's alone… It gets messy.

"Sora?" He's pulling on my arm now. There's urgency in his voice. But there's reassurance too. "Remember what I said. If it's anything worse than marshmallows, you let me handle it with you, ok?"

I laugh.

I go inside.


End file.
